


...but i know it's getting easier

by mukaismom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, supportive girlfriends!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukaismom/pseuds/mukaismom
Summary: The armory festival means even more to Kjelle than Noire thought.





	...but i know it's getting easier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iavenjqasdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/gifts).



> title is from "old friend" by seawolf which is a Big Fave song and def kjellenoire vibes. rip summaries as per the usual. also terk god bless u

There is, at Noire’s feet, a fat ant hauling a large golden speck of fried chicken skin through sparse blades of grass. It is missing antennae and stumbles over tiny stones every few inches. It has most definitely reached maximum carrying capacity with its find.

Noire knows enough about this ant to write a report because, in the process of examining her aching left foot, she found the ant bumping into her boot instead of any potential source of foot pain. And, unfortunately, the ant is more appealing to her than her current surroundings.

Not that she hates festivals, per se. But the thing about festivals is that your feet start to hurt and you’ve only muddy grass to rest in, and since this is an armory festival, the clang of metal goods reigns, and there are no roofs or awnings (save for those designated for jousters and artisans presenting their works) to block out the persistent sun that will surely burn Noire over the course of the day.

There is a creek lined by elm trees whose leaves beckon silver in the breeze, but Kjelle has visited the armory festival every year since they mended Ylisse, and it’s about time Noire came with her to experience the gathering --and in particular, the joust-- her girlfriend loves so much. Even if she spends a portion of that time staring at an ant by her feet.

Noire’s stomach bubbles. The food is good here and decidedly Kjelle-approved (“full of protein, Noire! It’ll keep you strong and healthy!”) She’s tempted to run off for a pork plate, but she’ll wait a little longer to grab food and head to the creek for some peace.

For now, her girlfriend stands taut beside her, Kjelle’s hand gripping Noire’s shoulder as she stares intently at the jousting ring.

Noire turns her gaze from the grass at her feet to the knights in the ring before her, then glances back at Kjelle whose brows furrow as they unsheathe their weapons.

Such a look of concentration is rare on Kjelle. Determination? Noire’s seen that countless times. But it is rare that Kjelle finds something so worthy of examination as this fight. Kjelle cracks a small, wry smile.

 Noire loves that smile. So she’ll wait, just a little longer.

One fighter wears turquoise feathers that sprout fern-like from his steel helmet. His green cape falls starkly against his white horse’s rump and with a mere flick of the man’s head, Noire can feel the smugness radiate off him.

She doesn’t like him very much, and neither does Kjelle.

Kjelle is rooting for the person in the gold-plated armor. First, because the armor is beautiful and isn’t truly gold, so it’s quite strong. “Gold is too soft for armor,” Kjelle said. Then, eyes widened, “That’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk down to you.”

(Noire doesn’t mind. Sometimes Kjelle is so caught up in what she loves that she forgets her audience, and Noire thinks that’s a wonderful thing.)

Second, because they have nuanced lance technique. Noire knows this because Kjelle has whispered intermittently to her throughout the previous joust, and, when Noire looked particularly confused, explained the play-by-play. Noire is well-versed in archery and basic hand-to-hand combat, but she has never followed any games, or even paid attention to Chrom and Vaike’s spontaneous brawls, and she let Kjelle know such.

Kjelle had laughed and told Noire she already knew that and didn’t wish to bore her if she didn’t want to watch the game. But Noire told her she wanted to see it, because Kjelle wanted to see it, and also wanted to know what was happening. Kjelle was more than happy to oblige.

And even though Noire’s eyes glaze over, she does her best to follow their movements, but she only refocuses completely when the crowd shouts, and she sees the golden knight raises their hands in surrender. 

A woman next to Noire mutters and stomps off, a few kids whine “can we leave now?”, parents grab their children’s hands, and the crowd disperses.

Kjelle deflates beside her, and if she’s honest, so does Noire. There’s something infinitely agitating about that smug man walking away with the winner’s gold. But suddenly, Kjelle grips her arm harder.

She only does that when she’s surprised or excited, so Noire glances around. She doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary; just a few pairs of older men ranting (drunkenly, of course) about the joust, and a few kids running around and chucking muddy grass at each other.

Then, she follows Kjelle’s gaze and realizes she’s staring at the golden knight. For a moment, she wonders if Kjelle knows them. But it clicks in Noire’s head quite quickly, given the purpose of this festival: she’s fascinated with the armor.

She taps Kjelle’s hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to go talk to them? I’m sure they’d love to speak with you,” Noire says and Kjelle shakes herself out of her stupor.

“Oh! Yes, I need to do that anyway. Sorry for zoning out on you there,” Kjelle smiles a little sheepishly at her girlfriend.

Noire remembers when she thought Kjelle didn’t smile at all. She also remembers when she realized Kjelle simply didn’t have reason to smile (and how foolish of her to think Kjelle incapable of amusement or joy!) And the day she vowed to help Kjelle smile again.

So Noire grabs Kjelle’s hand and says, “Come on, I’ll go with you.” Her stomach flutters at the thought of talking to a stranger, but since Kjelle’s there (and the one who will, most definitely, ask the questions), she knows she’ll get through it. “Just so you know--” Noire lowers her voice, “--I’m feeling a little anxious right now. So if I stop talking, it’s not because of you or anything else, really.”

Kjelle squeezes her hand and says exactly what Noire had been thinking. “I’ll be the one talking. It’s armor, after all.” And they walk toward the knight, hands swinging between them.

Kjelle speaks first, quite formally. “Hello,” she says, and the knight looks up from their whetstone at the edge of the ring. Noire focuses on the elm trees down the hill behind the knight and smiles shyly.

“Hello,” they say back. Noire glances back, and their eyes look kind and smile warm. Her shoulders relax a little, and she knows Kjelle can tell because she looks at her with that smile that means _I’m glad you’re feeling better_.

“I just wanted to come over to--”

“Wait!” The knight suddenly stands straight as an arrow. “You’re Kjelle!”

Noire looks up at her girlfriend. “What?”

“Uh,” Kjelle says, elegant as always. Noire stifles a laugh (as if she’d have done any better) and taps Kjelle’s hand to remind her to finish the sentence. “Yeah, I am. Would you mind if I examined where his lance hit the armor?”

“Of course! Sorry I didn’t recognize you, I’m really terrible with remembering faces. And names, for that matter,” the knight laughs. “Speaking of, aren’t you going to introduce the two of us?”

The knight gestures with a grin to Noire, whose eyes are narrowed in confusion.

“Ah!” Noire cherishes the way the tip of Kjelle’s nose tints pink with embarrassment-- it’s rare to see her girlfriend flustered, except, on occasion, by her-- and Noire likes to keep as many of those expressions cataloged as possible. “Yes, of course! Rowan, this is my girlfriend, Noire. Noire, this is Rowan. I, uh, made their armor.”

Ordinarily, Noire would relish the words “my girlfriend, Noire” falling casually from Kjelle’s mouth.

But the armor takes precedent-- Kjelle hardly ever shares her work with others. As much as she adores her own armor, Kjelle’s armorer side-hobby is deeply private to her and a few loved ones, including Noire, but someone who barely recognized Kjelle’s face upon meeting--a near stranger? Kjelle made armor for a near stranger and Noire has only just heard of it!

And, swelling with pride and a little indignance, she stutters, “you--you made this? Kjelle, you made this!”  And though she knows she said it before, a bit offhand, she tells Kjelle how beautiful it is again, just in case she forgot, and Kjelle flushes even harder than before.

“Uh, yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise. A little bit more of a surprise than this, but clearly I didn’t think it through very well.”

Noire snorts with laughter. “I wish you told me sooner! I could’ve celebrated with you, silly.” Noire jabs Kjelle’s side with her elbow. “But that just means we get to celebrate now, right?”

Kjelle touches Noire’s cheek. “Of course,” she says softly.

“Uh,” says Rowan, “do you still want to examine the armor, or…”

“Oh!” Noire steps away from Kjelle’s side. “Kjelle, go ahead,” Noire says primly.

“Ah, no, it’s fine. Thank you for your time, Rowan.” Kjelle’s face is blank now, but it’s the exact look she has when she’s especially embarrassed. Conversely, Noire’s face is on fire.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” they say. “Have fun at the fair!” they call after the pair as they stroll toward the food stalls.

And with one glance at each other, they burst out laughing.

“That was so awkward!” Noire says. “Gods, that was painful.”

Kjelle laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that fills an entire room. “I mean, I’ve seen worse on both our parts,” Kjelle says teasingly.

Noire giggles. "Alright, but in all honesty Kjelle, that is some beautiful armor. I'm..." Noire grabs both of Kjelle's hands, "--really proud of you. That was brave. I know how much your work means to you."

Kjelle glances away. "Thank you," she says quietly. "I was, uh. A little afraid to put it out in public like that."

 _Kjelle? Sharing vulnerabilities?_  Noire's heart swells. "And that's exactly why it's so brave. Plus, I noticed that there was not a single dent from where the spear hit! You did truly quality work," she states and sets a hand on Kjelle's bicep. "C'mon, we have to get some food in you if you want to keep that muscle of yours."

Kjelle smiles, a little unsure at first, and then it spreads across her face. "I should say the same to you, archer." She slings her arm over Noire's shoulders. "You want chicken or pork?"

"Pork," Noire says. "Oh, and I saw some kebabs across the way. At the stand with the orange awning."

"Do you want that, then?"

"No, it just sounded like something you'd like."

"Okay, then pork it is," Kjelle says. "Hey Noire?" Her nose wrinkles.  _Concern_.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go sit by the river?" Kjelle asks. "I saw you eyeing it earlier and you're looking a little tired. I'll grab the food."

Noire nods. "I'll meet you there, then."

She can tell the river is more of a creek as she climbs down the hill and settles against the trunk of one of the elms. The water-chilled breeze seems to come and go with her breath, and occasionally carries a whiff of fried food and taffy through the rustling tree branches.

She’s content. Happy, even. Her quiet time is good, but the soft, vulnerable look in Kjelle’s eyes as she admitted her fears spins in her head, the way her eyes lit up as Noire praised her craftsmanship. And as she thinks on it, as much as Noire adores Kjelle's brows wrinkling in concentration and her rare face-splitting grins, this look, this vulnerability, reserved only for her, might be her favorite. She'll give that softness the care and reverence it deserves.


End file.
